


A Little Death

by Vaecordia



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 1960s AU, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, inspired by a song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 03:54:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9105586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vaecordia/pseuds/Vaecordia
Summary: It was wrong, but they both ignored it in their blind happiness. But their 'petite mort' peaks with a painful crime of passion. He can't forget - won't forget. But he's left, and there is no coming back. USUK, side/one-sided AmeBel.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song "A Little Death" by The Neighbourhood.

The road stretched on ahead of him, darkness surrounding the black Chevrolet. Its black metallic glint dulled by night, the halos of the headlights helped only light a few feet ahead, barely enough the see the flashes of the road's lines. The dead of night seeped from the tall trees, as if a morose being extended its cloak over the landscape - hiding it from view. The car, driving on, was confined in the starless night, its saviour being its feeble lights. Inside it, a man gripped the steering wheel with all the strength he had, his hands occasionally shifting uncomfortably. He craned his neck, trying to see further ahead in the night. When the occasional, lonesome streetlamp was passed, his glasses glinted softly in the sickly yellow light. His blue eyes stared ahead, unrelenting, as if willing the road to challenge him to a battle he would lose. Not that he felt he had anything else to lose, did he?

_Alfred tried to hold in a laugh as he knew his lover was tip-toeing behind him, before suddenly Arthur jumped onto his back without a warning. Alfred stumbled slightly, before bending and throwing Arthur over his shoulders and onto the bed. The Englishman laughed heartily now, looking up at the warm blue eyes above him. Rolling off the soft silk sheets, he stood and exchanged sweet nothings with his lover, moving together to the kitchen. They giggled and laughed as they drank - a quarter of the bottle, a half, three quarters. They stopped when a knock came to the door._

_"Jones? Are you there? Jones?"_

_They both remained silent, and when the knocking and the voice subsided, they laughed like schoolboys, proud at not being caught. Alfred smiled, truly happy at the moment. An idea flashed into his mind, and pulled himself out of the other's gentle hold. He turned to the radio, the one that had been sitting there for a decade without much use. He turned it on, soft music now wafting through the air. Alfred knew this song, and so did Arthur. Alfred smiled, singing along._ _Alfred turned back, only to have his hands grasped by Arthur. Alfred sighed softly, a feeling of true and unadulterated abandonment filling him. Only rarely did he feel like this, and it was only when with his lover. Alfred pulled Arthur close to him, and they began slowly moving together, Alfred sometimes giving Arthur a turn, Alfred laughing happily while Arthur smiled with adoration._

_Alfred never wanted to let this end._

Alfred grit his teeth, tears stinging at his eyes, but he refused to let them fall - he couldn't break down, not while he was driving. He blinked rapidly, glaring at the road. Looking at the red numbers coming from the dashboard of the car, he seemed to realise only now how late it was. How long had he been driving? How many hours? He shook his head, focusing his attention back on the darkness ahead of him, refusing to look back, refusing to let the memories overwhelm him, refusing it all. He didn't want to think of it, not now. But he couldn't help most of those painful, killing memories.

_Soon, Arthur had placed his head on Alfred's shoulder, and Alfred leaned his head down, his breath ghosting over Arthur's neck, a sigh leaving him. Arthur let his head fall a bit to the side to allow Alfred's lips to place a gentle kiss on the junction of his neck and shoulder. His grip on the American's shoulders tightened infinitesimally, before he pulled away and took Alfred's hand. Arthur fell backwards onto the bed, allowing Alfred to climb over him. The kiss was soft, loving, gentle, and it induced a fire inside Alfred - a flame of passion that spread to his limbs, and he leaned more and more towards Arthur, caressing his body with gentle touches touches. Their ties loosened, shirts fell open, and soon they felt the heat of skin against skin, warmth spreading everywhere - Alfred felt whole, like there was nothing missing. He wanted nothing more than to hold Arthur close as their limbs tangled, as they were as close together as humanely possible. And he felt completion as they came together. Leaning back on the soft pillows, he closed his eyes, Arthur leaning onto Alfred's chest, tracing the rippling muscles, feeling his heat and sweat._

Turning his eyes back at the road ahead of him, he saw a a space next to the road, where he could stop the car for the night. He could continue tomorrow. Opening the car door and stepping out, he leant against the car. As if to add to the already horrid moment, rain started to fall around him. He stayed where he was, letting the pounding droplets wet his air, his clothes, already rumpled and wrinkly from hours of driving, from having worn them for hours on end. He felt his white button-up, the one that had been clean, crisp and ironed only this morning, stick to his skin. His tie felt constricting, and he felt that if he didn't loosen it, it would strangle him, he would suffocate in the claustrophobic rain, the one that hit him, hurt him. And yet, he didn't even feel it. His socks were now soaked, his shoes digging into the mud underneath him. He'd left his jacket inside the car. Perhaps it was good that he have at least one dry clothing item with him. He hadn't even had time to pack any of his belongings, maybe he'd be able to return someday.

_The front door opened, and both Alfred and Arthur scrambled quickly to get hold of their clothes, pulling them on in a hurry. Alfred whipped around to the door of the bedroom, trying to lock it, but it had just opened to reveal a woman. Her platinum blonde hair fell loosely upon her shoulders, long down her back. The naturally pale complexion of her face was tinted by a soft dusting of red, and as Alfred looked into the burning ice-blue eyes, he could feel the anger emanate from her. He knew how possessive she was, he knew how she could get, he knew - and that's why he'd married her in the first place. Not love, never love - but he'd feared his friends', his family's reaction if they knew. And so he'd gone, found a woman he felt he could trust and who would be loyal. A simple life. That's what he'd wanted with her. And now he realised the reality of the life he'd been leading. He'd betrayed her, he'd lied to her, he'd lied to everyone around him - everyone, except Arthur. He had led a life of lies, a life of deceit and betrayal and hurt. And all those were things he had decided to shove aside, to deal with later, to ignore and deny, in favour of a few minutes, maybe hours in heaven with a person he couldn't have. And now, he feared what Natalia would do - overreact, that was for sure. But how far would she go? He threw excuses everywhere, at her, trying to get her to understand. It was futile, because for God's sake, even he didn't understand what kind of a mess he'd dived into headfirst._

_"Leave." It was a mere whisper. Not a single breath could be heard in the frozen room. The monosyllabic words only stabbed Alfred further to the heart, digging deeper for pain._

_Alfred had opened his mouth to try to say something, but she had come up to him. The next thing he knew, his cheek was stinging and he was looking away from her. That was when he heard the last sentence he would ever hear from her. "If you come back here I will have you arrested. Don't think I won't."_

_"Natalia, please," Alfred pleaded. She moved away from him, going to his nightstand. "Let me-"_

_"Shut up! If you know what's good for you, don't-" Natalia had opened Alfred's top drawer, and he was suddenly looking at the barrel of his handgun. "Get out." When neither man moved, a fire lit in her eyes. "Alfred, get out! I don't want to see you, hear from you, anything! Disappear off the map of the world!"_

_"God, I am so, so sorry, Natalia-"_

_"Fine." She turned the gun away from him, instead pointing it at Arthur and firing. Alfred took a second to realise what had happened, and when he did, he still did not believe it. Panic rushing through him, he whipped to see Arthur, gasping for air, blood pooling beneath him. Alfred fell to his side, trying to find some way to help him, to save him. "No-one touches_ my _husband and lives another day. I can't - I-" He turned to see the gun pointing at him, shaking like a leaf in winter's wind. Tears flowed down her cheeks, like small crystals. "Get out, before I hurt you, too. When the police come, I'll tell them everything. Get out."_

_Alfred looked at her in horror, before looking back helplessly at Arthur._

_"Alfred - please,_ go _."_

_Alfred let tears run freely, whispering a mantra of 'I love you' and 'I'm sorry', and he backed slowly out of the room, before breaking into a run as he reached the corridor of his apartment's floor, down the stairs, into his car. He began driving as fast as he could, away from his home, away from his pain, his lover, his wife, his life._

Giving up, having lost the battle of wills against the rain, he choked slightly on a half-retained sob. Where would he go? How far would he drive? Where was he? There must have been a town nearby, he'd find one, find his bearings and go on. Continue somewhere, away from his past life. He'd try to forget, but he knew he'd fail miserably, and it would all haunt him forever. He went back to the driver's seat, entering the car once more, leaning back against the door, stretching his legs under the dashboard. He didn't want to sleep yet, so he would continue to drive, refusing to sleep in the car. He couldn't fall to dreams yet. Burying his head in his hands, he tried to hold it in. He felt like he was breaking down, shattering into a million pieces that hurt him over and over again. He collected himself again as best he could, turning on the ignition, he abandoned his previous idea of sleeping. Maybe there was a motel somewhere near, or maybe he'd just keep going as long as he had gas. The silhouettes of the trees loomed in front of him in the shrouded sky, and he decidedly ignored everything around him, except the stretch of highway and the rumble of the motor. He felt slightly startled when he saw the off-red neon sign of a roadside motel, the letters of the name blinking irregularly. The word "vacancy" was on, and Alfred debated for a split-second before pulling into the small parking. The motel was small, but rather well-kept. Old, wooden, surrounded by forest. He entered the dimly lit reception, and rang the small bell that had been placed on the desk.

Alfred looked around him, trying to distract his wandering thoughts and aim them at looking blankly at the wooden walls, the rug on the floor, the small bookcase, the little trinkets decorating the room. In front of him, on the desk, there was a small, open book filled with names written in different handwritings - some had l's looping high and ornate, others had small letters. In some, the name dug heavily into the page, while in others the touch had been so light it was barely there.

"Good night, sir." Alfred's attention snapped to the girl who had just appeared from a door, standing near the desk. A tired smile was plastered on her face. "How can I help you?"

"The sign said there's vacancy...?" Alfred left the question hanging.

"Oh, yes." She smiled even more. It was clearly rare for them to get guests, in such a small place. "Could I have your name? You can have room 1."

"Al- Anthony. Anthony Kirkland," Alfred stated, keeping a level face, his insides shattering at the name. The girl nodded, and handed him the key. He took it, giving her a half-hearted smile. He left for his room, and quickly opened and closed the door, leaning heavily against it. Glaring at the offendingly bare room - with nothing but minimal furniture - he realised that there was nothing else for him. He no longer had anything, except his bank account and a false identity. He had nothing to lose, not any more. Maybe he could vanish from the world.

Perhaps he could vanish even from himself.


End file.
